


Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late

by inkcredible



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: A little angst, But also mentions John Watson/Mary Morstan, But mostly fluff, Caregiver!Dean, Dean and John brainstorm an answer to a similar problem, Dean and John just want Cas and Sherlock to sleep, Dean uses children's books and a lullaby to help Cas sleep, Dean/Cas centric, Depowered Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, Hey Jude, I picture this as part of a larger AU, Idiots in Love, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Sleep Deprivation, Songfic, Sort Of, Superwholock, They're in the TARDIS and the Doctor is mentioned, also there are love confessions and feelings, bookfic, but i did edit that bit at least a little, excerpts from two picture books, i wrote about half of this many years ago and finally finished it, ish, johnlock if you squint, kind of, little!cas, mentions Sherlock but he's offscreen, to some extent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 05:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30134649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkcredible/pseuds/inkcredible
Summary: Dean Winchester has a problem. John Watson has a very similar problem. Their friends Cas and Sherlock just won't go to sleep! The two are starting to make themselves sick in a manner Dean accurately describes as "childish", so John and Dean hatch a plan. If they are going to act like children, maybe the only way to get them to sleep is to treat them like stubborn kids at bedtime.Basically an excuse to write Dean reading cute picture books and singing a lullaby to Cas. Because softie Dean is adorable. Most of the Sherlock stuff happens offscreen. Doctor Who is mentioned, but more to establish setting than anything. No Doctor Who characters are actively in this story.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late

**Author's Note:**

> This story includes non-graphic kissing, some minor swear words, mild angst, and some mild CG/L (caregiver/little) vibes. 
> 
> There is nothing sexual mentioned at any time, and the only ageplay-esque stuff comes from the parental-like methods to get Cas to sleep and the general caring behavior showcased between Dean and Cas. All characters in this story are adults, and no characters regress heavily, but Cas might a little, if you squint (no baby-talk). This is your warning if you are extremely sensitive to such things. 
> 
> Also, even if Cas is feeling down on himself right now, rest assured, this Cas is still a badass, he's just a little depowered and has run himself into the ground trying to prove his usefulness. Following the events of this story, I expect he goes out on a case and gets his confidence back. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Hey man,” Dean said, as John stomped into the kitchen of the TARDIS and violently took a seat, “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m not,” John said, reaching across the table for the glass he’d left there earlier, “I’m furious. I'm fed up with Sherlock and his stupid self-destructive behavior!”

“Wait, what?” Sam asked, popping up from behind the counter, his over-concerned puppy face plain for all to see. “Is he okay?!”

“What?” John asked, then, realizing what Sam was implying, “Oh, no, god no!” he gasped, “He’s fine! I didn’t mean anything serious, he just hasn’t slept in a week and I’m sick of his excuses.”

Dean frowned, and turned away not-so subtly to go and look in the cupboard, even though he knew that it was stocked with only fish fingers, bananas, and custard.

John frowned at him, then turned to Sam. “Sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t mind Dean. You just reminded him of his own problems.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He shrugged, leaning in closer to whisper to him so his brother couldn’t hear. “Cas is really sick, you know that, practically human, and Dean’s been fighting with him for hours, but he just refuses to sleep. You know, I think he remembers the last time he was human too well when he does that sort of thing. But of course, now Dean’s worried sick, and he’s been pouting all night about it. I keep trying to get him to relax and sleep himself, but he’s really concerned about Castiel. You know how it is.”

John nodded. He hadn’t known the Winchesters for very long, but the strong relationship between Dean and his angel, whatever it was, had not escaped his notice. That plus Dean’s overprotective nature meant that this situation could only turn out for the worst. “And this has been going on for how long?” he asked.

“Ten days,” Sam sighed. “It’s crazy.”

John nodded. “That is a long time. Thanks Sam,” he said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll try to do something about it.”

Sam yawned. “No problem.” He stood and left the room.

John got to his feet and shuffled across the kitchen to tap Dean on the shoulder. “Ahem.”

“What do you want?” Dean snapped, and then, after an awkward moment of pause between them, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. Feeling better?”

John shrugged. “A bit,” then after a brief pause, “How about you?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, ever the tough guy, “I’m fine. Just great.”

“Really?” John asked, “Because I don’t mean to pry, but you look a bit upset.”

Dean slammed the cupboard violently shut. “I’ll handle it.”

“Dean,” John said quietly, as the other man started to leave, “Wait. Sam told me what this is about.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Did he?”

“Yes,” John answered simply, “And I get how you feel. I know it can be frustrating when somebody you care about won’t-”

“Cas and I are just friends!” Dean cut in way too quickly.

John gave him a strange look. “I never said you weren’t. Sherlock and I are just friends too.”

Dean just stared at him. John frowned as the silence grew longer, and Dean gave an awkward cough. “Wait. Really?” the hunter finally asked.

“Yes! Really!” John cried out in disbelief, “Why does everybody assume we’re gay?!”

Dean shrugged. “I mean, you did live together.”

“Yeah,” John said hysterically, “We were flatmates! Flatmates! I have a pregnant wife!”

“Whatever,” Dean muttered, “Makes no difference to me.” He turned back to the cupboard, although it was closed, staring at the wooden door.

“Never mind,” John hissed, “That’s not the point right now. The point is, look, I know you’re worried about Castiel, but you need to-”

“I need him to sleep!” Dean interrupted him, furiously, “I can’t take his stubbornness anymore! He’s all ‘I’m an angel’ this and ‘I don’t require sleep’ that, but have you seen him lately, John? He looks like crap! I can’t just let him… Let him…!”

John nodded, staring at his feet. “I get it.”

Dean let out a long, exasperated breath. “He’s my responsibility, John. He’s like a child! He can’t make these decisions for himself! He’s going to get hurt! He doesn’t know how to take care of himself when he’s human, so if I don’t step in he’ll… He might…!”

John felt a pang of sympathy for him. “I know. Sherlock’s the same way. Just because he’s a genius he thinks he’s invincible.”

Dean nodded, and they were silent for a moment. Finally, he sighed and asked, “What are we going to do?”

John slumped down back into one of the chairs. “I have no bloody idea.”

They stood there for a while, both seething internally about their own little problem. Finally, John gave up. “You know what?” he asked, “I’m going to Google it.”

Dean scowled. “Google what? How to put an angel of the lord and a full-grown crazy-ass detective to bed?”

John shrugged. “Hey, you said that Cas was like a child! I agree. I mean, they are refusing bedtime! Maybe this will be easier if we approach this like babysitting.”

Dean just stared at him. “What?”

John sighed. “Got any better ideas?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Just do it. I’ll take anything right now.”

John nodded, scrolling through the results on his phone. “Let’s see… tips for babies and toddlers. This should do.”

Dean walked up behind him to see over his shoulder. “Read them a story? Hugs, toys, cuddling, nightlights, and… lullabies?” he gave him a look.

John shrugged, looking positively defeated. “Well, they won’t listen to reason.”

“No way in hell is any of that happening!” Dean huffed.

John shook his head. “It may be my only choice. I’ve tried everything, Dean. He won’t go to sleep, he just won’t! It used to be just during cases, but ever since the fall… And Mary and I…” he shook his head. “I need to do something, or he’s going to make himself sick.”

Dean groaned, running a hand down his face. “Fine. What one of these are you thinking of using?”

John sighed. “Well, I doubt a nightlight would do either of us much good. Castiel isn’t afraid of the dark, is he?”

Dean scowled. “Dude, he’s an angel.”

“Just checking,” John defended himself.

“I don’t think we even have toys or children’s books,” Dean muttered.

John winced guiltily. “Well…”

“You’re kidding.”

John let out an offended huff, clenching his fists at his sides. “I only picked up a few! I’m going to have a daughter, Dean! Besides, it’s the Doctor who keeps an entire room of this stuff!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course he does. Do you seriously think this will work?”

“On Sherlock?” John scoffed, “No, of course not. But as for your angel…”

Dean glared at him.

“You have to admit, it’s worth a shot,” John pressed, “I think I’m going to try tea and reading astronomy books for Sherlock. He finds those boring enough.”

“But kids’ stuff?” Dean asked, “On an angel? No way!”

“Look, you want him to go to sleep, right? Would you rather resort to cuddling?”

Dean scowled, but his shoulders slumped, defeated. “Where is this room of the Doctor’s?”

***

Dean felt so, so unbelievably stupid. He made his way through the halls of the TARDIS, arms full of things he wouldn’t normally be caught dead with. The things he did for… friendship. Anyway.

Castiel was still in the library, reading up on cases, but his skin looked a few shades paler than usual, his hair sticking up in messy clumps, dark circles standing out under his eyes. The angel was blinking hard at his book, clearly exhausted and struggling to fight the pull of sleep, but every time he wavered in his place he would snap himself awake, looking startled, and sit back up a little bit straighter. Dean kind of wanted to slap him. What kind of an idiot kept trying to stay awake when he felt as crappy as that? Instead, he just sighed, crossing the room to sit down in the chair across the table from Cas, watching the angel jump as he did. Normally, he would make some comment about how that was a taste of his own medicine, but he wasn’t in the mood to joke now. Instead, he fixed the angel with a glare.

Castiel let out a long-suffering sigh, looking up from his book at him. “Hello, Dean. I suppose you are here to yell at me again?”

Dean had to admit, that stung a little. Here he’d been trying for days to help Cas, to make him feel better, and the stupid angel had to go and paint him as some kind of antagonist? “No!” he snapped, then, at Cas’s pointed look, “I mean, no!” he muttered, lowering his voice a couple of levels. “I’m not here to fight. But one way or another, you are going to bed.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, looking somehow even more worn down than ever. “Dean, we’ve been over this. Angels don’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, trying very hard to reign in his frustration, “But you do! Or you should. Look at you, Cas. You’re a mess!”

The angel’s back stiffened, and he looked back down at the table, suddenly very interested in his book again. “Thanks,” he said, heavily laying on the sarcasm. “I thought you said you weren’t in here to fight.”

“I’m not!” Dean protested, “I’m not fighting! Look-” He pulled out the glass of milk and the bag of cookies he’d brought, pushing them across the table. “I even brought a peace offering.”

Cas regarded the items carefully, as if this was potentially some kind of trap. “Angels don’t require sustenance either,” he said, after a moment of pause, but his eyes remained fixed on the offering.

“I know,” Dean sighed, silently begging himself to stay patient, “But you’ve been liking food more lately. I’ve seen it. And besides, necessary or not, cookies are awesome!”

Apparently Cas couldn’t argue with that, because he reached out to take the bag of cookies and opened it to take one out, still watching Dean closely as he took a taste. It didn’t escape Dean the way his pupils dilated at the taste of the chocolate, the corners of his eyes scrunching up with pleasure as he took another bite.

Dean had to actively suppress a smile. “They’re even better dipped in milk,” he suggested, miming a dipping motion.

Castiel considered this, then dipped his cookie, taking a bite. His shoulders seemed to relax and he dipped the next bite too, humming his approval.

Dean watched him go through all three cookies in quick succession, clearly enjoying every second of it, before the angel looked up again, apparently remembering Dean. “Thank you,” Castiel said, and Dean smiled.

“No problem Cas. I’m glad that cheered you up. You should drink your milk too. Staying hydrated is good for you.”

Cas gave him a skeptical look. Dean decided on another approach. “There are probably still crumbs in there.”

Apparently, that was a better reason, because Castiel drank the whole glass, and in about one gulp at that. _He must have been thirsty_ , Dean thought. It figured. If he was doing this to his sleep schedule, Dean doubted Cas was doing much to fuel his body. Dean felt excitement stir inside him. He was on a roll here! This was the most progress he’d made with Cas in days! “I brought more peace offerings too,” he said before he could stop himself, a hand hovering over the pile of things at his side.

Cas frowned at him. “Dean, it really isn’t that big of a deal... We just argued. It happens.”

“I know!” Dean said, a little defensively, reaching for the right object to pull out next, “But I feel bad!” He held up a couple of small books, full of bright, colorful illustrations. “I saw you’ve been reading a lot,” he commented, a flush creeping its way up his neck and towards his ears, “I thought maybe I could read to you?”

Again, Cas paused. Apparently, this idea had never occurred to him before, or at the very least, he probably didn’t expect it. Dean was ready for Cas to snap back at him in offense, but instead, a little smile curved over his lips. “You would do that?”

Dean grinned at his openness. “Yeah!” he said, opening the book and flipping through it, “Yeah, of course! I actually brought two!” He held one of them up, giving Cas a glance at one of the pages, very carefully covering the text. “Look, there’s a bee in this one!”

Cas pursed his lips, clearly considering it. “I do like bees,” he admitted.

Dean smiled. “I know you do,” he said, “In fact…” He held reached down and held up the toy he’d found him. He hadn’t been planning on grabbing him any, he really hadn’t, but the little stuffed bee had been too cute to resist.

Cas’s face lit up as he caught sight of it. “Is that for me?” he asked, eyes growing wide.

Dean’s strong, manly hunter’s heart melted. “Of course it is, buddy,” he said, holding it out to him, “I thought of you the moment I saw it!”

Cas took the bee from him with what actually sounded suspiciously like a squeal, squeezing it close to his chest. “Thank you!” He said, giving Dean a smile that looked impossibly soft.

Dean kind of wanted to cry. How did a grown man- no- an eternal flipping angel- possibly manage to be so cute? “No problem, bud,” he said softly. “You wanna take Bee to my room so we can read the stories together?”

Cas hummed, looking much more persuadable now, but still, he hesitated. “Why not here?”

Dean deflated a little. Cas still didn’t want to go anywhere near a bed. “Uh, no reason. It’s just not as comfortable in here, is it? I mean, look at those chairs! Your back must be killing you, right?”

Castiel frowned, glancing back behind himself, the bee still clutched in close. “Angels shouldn’t be bothered by things as minor as that,” he pointed out.

Dean shook his head, starting to see where this was going. “No, but Cas! You’re forgetting, angels have wings, right? It must be even worse for an angel to sit like that, with his wings scrunched up and everything.”

Cas seemed to relax a little at that explanation, his shoulders drooping slightly. “My back is a little sore…”

“You see?” Dean asked, pointing at him. He stood up from the table. “Give yourself a rest. C’mon, it’s not so bad!” He held out a hand to him. Castiel hesitated, but took Dean’s hand, standing up from the table. “I suppose that a small break couldn’t hurt,” he allowed.

Dean smiled. “That’s the spirit,” he said, “C’mon.”

Cas was a little bit wobbly on his feet after so many days of neglecting himself, so Dean helped him get his arm up over his shoulder, half-dragging, half-carrying him through the halls of the TARDIS. He caught the angel with his eyes nearly closed several times, but Castiel maintained that he was just blinking, and was very much awake, so Dean, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, continued on with his plan.

“Here,” he said, depositing Castiel on the edge of the bed. The angel blinked and glanced around, looking dazed. “Take your shoes off, and get settled up by the pillows,” he said, pointing. “Then we’ll read Bee the stories.”

Castiel nodded, reaching down to take off his shoes, but apparently he really was out of it, (or perhaps he had never bothered with learning how to work shoelaces?), because he was sure taking a long time of it, trying pathetically to pick at the knot. Dean shook his head, kneeling down to reach for a foot. “Here,” he said, “Let me.”

Once Dean had untied and pulled off both of Cas’s shoes, setting them off to the side on the floor, he nudged him up towards the pillows, tucking him in under the blankets. “You see?” he asked in an intentionally soft, gentle voice, “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Cas blinked heavily, his head drooping over like it weighed too much for his neck to support. It was only for a moment though, and he shook himself awake. “Huh? Oh. Yes… I suppose it is more comfortable,” he admitted.

“And what does Bee think?” Dean asked before he could stop himself.

Cas smiled, snuggling the bee close. “He likes it too.”

Dean smiled back. “I’m glad he approves.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Cas, pulling out two books, and held one up. “This is the first book we’re going to read, see Bee?” He pretended to show it to the bee, making sure Cas could see the picture as well. “It’s called-”

“Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late?” Castiel asked, scrunching up his nose and turning to give Dean a very judgmental look.

Dean glared right back at him. “Look, do you wanna read stories or not?”

Cas appeared to consider it, but eventually he let out a long, put-upon sigh. “Fine. But only because Bee wants to see it.”

Dean barely hid a smirk. “Good. Thank you to Bee, then. He has good taste. Both of you, listen up.” He opened up the book, revealing pictures of a man in pajamas, surrounded by speech bubbles. “Oh good, it’s you. Listen, can you do me a favor? Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late! Thanks!”

Despite himself, Cas looked intrigued. Dean turned the page. They were now looking at a little blue pigeon. “First of all,” Dean said, looking right at Cas as he put on his most stubborn little kid voice, “I’m not even tired!”

Cas looked from the book to Dean, clearly seeing where this was going. Did Dean see a resemblance between the obstinate pigeon and a certain other winged creature throwing a multi-day tantrum to stay awake? Yes, so sue him, reading this to Cas was incredibly cathartic.

Shockingly, Cas didn’t ask for the story to stop, so Dean flipped another page. “In fact, I’m in the mood for a hot dog party!” Apparently that was unexpected enough to make Cas smile. Riding high on the excitement of getting that reaction, Dean tried for another, leaning in close to Cas to whisper “What do you say?”

Cas’s smile grew, but he shoved at him playfully. “Dean!”

“What?” he asked innocently, smiling right back at him, “That’s what the pigeon’s doing.” He turned the page. “No?!” he gasped as dramatically as he could. Cas let out a little laugh, shaking his head, especially as Dean crossed his free arm over his chest to mime a pout. “Hmph!”

By now, the angel’s façade of offense had dropped. He looked rather invested. Dean continued on through the pages, thoroughly acting everything out. Both of them got a good giggle in when Dean pretended to do exactly what Cas had been doing the last couple of days: almost falling asleep and then waking himself up. “What!?” Dean cried, “What!?!” all to the background of Cas’s hysterical laughter, (poor guy had reached slap-happy territory), “I’M NOT TIRED!” Dean yelled, and Cas let out a little gasp of delight, shaking his head as he tried to gain control of himself. By the time Dean got to the end of the book, where the pigeon did indeed drop off to sleep, Cas had stopped laughing quite so hard, but he still looked considerably amused, and in a considerably more open mood than before.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Dean,” he said, though the smile didn’t leave his face.

Dean let out a mock-horrified gasp. “You’re implying that _I_ have an agenda? _Me?_ Why Cas, how could you! I thought we were enjoying that story together!”

Cas gave him a somewhat skeptical look, but the smile remained. “Well…” he said carefully, “I guess it was rather funny.” The smile turned into a smirk. “Especially your voices.”

Dean snorted. “Funny? Please,” he said, waving a hand, “That was comedic genius.” He set the book down, holding up the other one. “What do you think, then? Awake enough for one more?”

Obviously, Cas took that as a challenge. He sat up a little bit straighter in the bed, pulling Bee up with him. “Yes!”

Dean smiled, turning the cover toward him. _Time for Bed_ , the book was titled. Cas’s excitement visibly faded. “I think I’m seeing a pattern in these books,” he mumbled, hugging Bee tighter.

Dean just grinned at him. “Shh!” he said, holding a finger to his lips, “You won’t be able to hear the story!” Cas rolled his eyes dramatically, but he did stop talking, so Dean’s expression grew smug, and he opened the book. “This is the one with the bee in it,” he reminded Cas. He turned to the first page, with a detailed illustration of a mouse parent and child at the base of a tree. “It’s time for bed, little mouse, little mouse. Darkness is falling all over the house.”

Dean did not use a silly voice this time. Cas did not laugh, but he was watching and listening closely, clutching his bee.

“It’s time for bed, little goose, little goose. The stars are out and on the loose.”

Cas’s eyes were visibly drooping. He didn’t seem to fight it quite as hard this time.

“It’s time for bed, little cat, little cat. So snuggle in tight, that’s right, like that.”

To Dean’s surprise, Cas actually shifted to lean in against him, resting his head on his shoulder. Dean startled a little, but when he glanced at Cas, the angel’s eyes were barely open. Dean tried to stay as still as he possibly could, barely moving to turn the page.

“It’s time for bed, little calf, little calf. What happened today that made you laugh?” His voice had, almost unconsciously, grown softer, a gentle voice that wouldn’t rouse the angel any further.

“It’s time for bed, little bird, little bird…” by this page, studded with stars, Castiel’s eyes were entirely closed, his mouth hanging slightly open. Dean moved to shift up closer to Cas on the bed, switching his position until Cas lay sprawled in the cradle of his arms, still not roused from his position at all. “So close your eyes, not another word…” Dean wondered if he was still awake.

“It’s time to sleep, little bee, little bee…” Dean trailed off, and one of Cas’s tired blue eyes cracked open. “What does the bee say, Dean?” he asked, without looking up at the page. Dean stared at the words for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer and quieter than ever. “…Yes, I love you and you love me.”

Both of Cas’s eyes opened immediately. He looked up at Dean, searching his gaze carefully, lips pursed and brow furrowed with focus. Dean stared right back at him, his eyes full of open, unabashed tenderness, meeting his gaze as if daring him to deny it. Cas stared at him for a long time, then apparently he saw something that resonated with him, because a small but genuine smile crossed his lips, and he closed his eyes entirely again, relaxing back against him. He moved a hand to give Dean’s arm a gentle squeeze. _Yes, I do love you._ Dean’s entire chest ached so hard he thought it might split in two. He took a deep breath, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, and continued to read.

“It’s time to sleep, little deer, little deer…” Dean was whispering a few pages later, fairly convinced Cas was really asleep this time. “The very last kiss is almost here…” His mouth felt dry. He swallowed. He glanced down at Cas’s face, smooth and unbothered in his sleep. “The stars on high are shining bright…” He stared down at the angel, not even glancing at the illustrations. “Sweet dreams, my darling. Sleep well…”

“ _Goodnight._ ” The last word was barely audible, whispered into Castiel’s hair as he pressed a soft kiss to his head.

A smile crossed the allegedly sleeping angel’s face. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean smiled, shaking his head. “Still not asleep, huh?” At this point, his voice was too fond to do anything to hide it.

Castiel shook his head. “Very nearly,” he admitted, his voice a little rough with exhaustion. “But then certain memories come up, and I’ve been struggling. I know I need to do it, but saying it, I can’t help but feel so useless.”

Dean’s heart shattered. He knew exactly which memories Cas was referring to, and exactly which heartless asshole had caused them. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I never should have… If it wasn’t for Sam…” He sighed, shaking his head. “You aren’t useless, Cas. Not ever.”

“But when I’m without my powers-” Cas said, frowning and moving to sit up a little.

Dean shook his head, raising a hand to gently lower him back down, extracting the angel from his arms only to lay him down fully and climb in under the covers beside him. “No. Even without your powers, man, you’re still you. You’re an excellent fighter, and you’re brilliant,” he told him, “And besides-” A little smile crossed his lips. “I may not have written that book, but I think it expresses my feelings better than anything I’ve ever told you before.”

Cas looked up at him in astonishment, raising a brow. “So you really meant that?”

Dean smiled. “Every word,” he admitted. “Why do you think I’ve been so obsessed with getting you to bed lately? I care about you, you idiot.”

Despite the insult, the blush that crossed Castiel’s face was accompanied by a wide, genuine smile. “I care about you too, Dean.”

Dean smiled again, shaking his head. “Oh angel,” he murmured, reaching out to run a hand through Cas’s messy hair, “I promise that no one thinks you’re useless. Please oh please oh please go to sleep!” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. Another to his cheek. And then a third, right on the mouth. This one, Cas returned, lifting a hand to cradle Dean’s cheek, making a small sound into the kiss.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that,” Castiel said when they both pulled away.

“As long as I have?” Dean asked. “

Longer.”

Dean let out a huff of disbelieving laughter. “And how would you know that?”

“I knew I loved you the first time I saw the light of your soul in hell. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in all my eternal existence.” He said it the same way you would say ‘the sky is blue’, or ‘Sam’s hair is too long.’ Like a basic fact of the universe.

Dean’s chest was aching again. “Really?”

Cas nodded. “Really.”

Dean lifted a hand to his eyes, wiping away tears. “God, Cas…” he laughed, “You know, that’s pretty shallow, just liking a guy based on his looks and nothing else!”

“Your soul is the very essence of who you are, including your entire set of memories and personality, Dean.”

“Right,” Dean said, still trying to get ahold of himself, “Right.” He took a deep breath, then turned back to Cas. “So how can I help you sleep better?” Cas started to open his mouth, but Dean held up a warning finger, “And you are going to sleep, pigeon, I won’t take no for an answer this time!”

Cas closed his mouth, smiling slightly at the reference to the book. He was silent for a moment, thinking, stroking the silky fabric wings of his bee. “Could you stay in here with me?” he finally asked, looking back over at Dean, “Like you were earlier?”

“You mean holding you?” Dean asked. The angel nodded his head. Dean felt his heart warm. “Of course, angel. I can hold you.” He wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist, pulling him gently in closer. “Anything else?”

Cas hummed. “Ummm…” He glanced around the room. “Maybe…” His eyes landed on the books. “You could read to me again?” he suggested, “Your voice was very soothing.”

Dean started to reach back for the books, but then he remembered John’s list of sleep aids, and got a better idea. “I could read to you,” he said slowly, “Or would you rather hear a song?”

“A song?”

“A lullaby,” Dean explained, “To help you sleep. Humans have been using them forever. My mom used to sing me one every night.”

Cas looked up to meet Dean’s eyes. “That sounds wonderful,” he said, “Will you sing me the one she sang?”

Dean smiled. “If you want me to.” When Cas agreed, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, cuddling Cas in close to him, “You just close your eyes and let your mind relax, okay? This is called ‘Hey Jude’.”

Cas didn’t respond except for a gentle squeeze to Dean’s arm, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed calm, so Dean began, his voice low and a little imperfect, but completely full of both effort and heart.

“Hey Jude,

Don’t make it bad

Take a sad song,

And make it better

Remember

To let her into your heart

Then you can start

To make it better.”

The further into it Dean got, the more heavily Cas’s body leaned against him, his breathing growing slow and even and his face smooth and relaxed. By the second bridge of the song, Dean heard the first tiny little snore. He smiled fondly and made his voice even softer.

“Hey Jude,

Don’t make it bad

Take a sad song,

And make it better

Remember

To let her into your heart

Then you can start

To make it better.”

“Goodnight Cas,” Dean said, as he planted one more kiss on the angel’s forehead, but Cas did not respond, this time actually asleep for real. Once Dean was sure that he was out, he finally felt relaxed enough to settle down for himself, falling asleep with his head on top of Cas’s, the angel pulled in close against his chest. In between the two of them was the little stuffed bee, and beside the two of them were the books, but if John or Sam or anyone else ever asked, none of that ever happened.

None of the supplies were ever returned to the Doctor’s storage room, though. And some nights, if you listened carefully outside Dean’s door, you would still hear the words of a story, or the quiet, soothing notes of “Hey Jude.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may someday write more stories for this Superwholock verse. They may be more plotty, or maybe just more one shots of characters interacting. Anything in particular you want to see? Let me know!
> 
> Books Referenced in this Work:
> 
> Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late by Mo Willems  
> Time for Bed by Mem Fox
> 
> You can find these read aloud on YouTube. 
> 
> Songs Referenced:
> 
> Hey Jude by The Beatles 
> 
> Shows Referenced/Drawn From:
> 
> Supernatural (Dean, Cas, Sam)  
> Sherlock (John, Sherlock, Mary, Rosemary)  
> Doctor Who (The Doctor, the TARDIS)
> 
> I own none of these works listed above and intentionally did not include the full lyrics or text of any of these works. All quotes were simply used to set the tone of my story and describe the situation. I gain no profit from any of this, it is merely a fan work posted for the enjoyment of other fans.


End file.
